Beautiful Stranger
by alwaysmonchele
Summary: CROSSOVER: Finn/Simon Weeks Rachel is still dealing with the death of Finn, but when a man named Simon looks exactly like him, will she be able to finally let herself love him? RATED M ONESHOT AU


**UPDATE! **I have added on to this story because i felt like it needed MORE! I hope this version is a bit better, and gives you a little more! Love you guys to death you keep me going! Read on my lovelies!

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**DISCLAIMER**: I own none of these characters EXCEPT Olivia. I wrote this in 2 hours and did not proof read for the simple reason wanting to get it up TONIGHT. I love you guys and hope you like it. This is CROSSOVER between "Glee"s FINN, and "McCanick"s SIMON WEEKS! Thanks and Enjoy! XOXO

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Rachel Berry wasn't the crying type.

She didn't cry on any of her birthdays, or at any competitions she had won. She didn't cry when she got hurt, and she didn't cry when she was happy. She didn't cry on the day her daddy's bought her her first car – a 2007 Toyota Prius which she named 'Dorothy'. She didn't cry when Noah Puckermann called her ugly, and she didn't cry when Quinn Fabray told her she thought otherwise. She didn't cry when her mother cried seeing her on her wedding day, or when she actually exchanged her vows. She didn't cry on the day they got into the biggest fight they had ever had, or when they both said they were sorry, and made up for it by sleeping together. She didn't cry the day she got a phone call telling her that her husband wasn't walking on the ground she was anymore, and she didn't cry on the day she put him into the ground.

To say that she was full of pride was an understatement.

She never felt the 'tightening' in her throat that she knew she should feel at every event that required tears. Worry was always in the back of her mind – and she wanted to cry. Like every other human being on the planet, she so badly wanted to be able to break down for somebody and let them see that the cracks in her heart were real. Though she couldn't, she would never – _never_ let a single soul know that.

She just didn't feel it anymore. The need to show people that she was hurting had surpassed her by two years, and each day seemed a bit less dark.

She no longer brought flowers to his grave every week. It now consisted of her taking their four year old daughter to see her daddy. Olivia was a perfect blend of Rachel and her husband. She was a diva – always sure of what she wanted. She was compassionate – never wanting to see her mother unhappy, or _upset_. That was something Rachel forgot about.

She wasn't a crier. But she would spend countless hours sitting on the couch in their living room with a wedding photo in her hands, asking _why_ over and over. Her fervent daughter had countless times wound up next to her, asking her why she was talking to daddy. Rachel could never give her an answer that satisfied her enough to leave.

* * *

The air in Chicago was a whole new realm. It was clear, and it was cool. She didn't feel like she was suffocating every step she took.

The move was sudden, and no one really asked – but she didn't really care. Everyone knew that even if they tried to get her to stay, it would be of no use – as Rachel Berry was someone who would never take another word of advice other than her own. She bought a house with four bedrooms with the money she got from his life insurance policy. She didn't really think about it, or about the fact that he probably would have wanted her to put it towards their daughter.

In a way – she was putting it towards their little four year old princess. She didn't want her perfect little girl growing up around people or things that would be a constant reminder of her father – for her _or _for Olivia.

She knew it would hurt Carol, and maybe even hurt herself in the long run. Olivia was the only thing that Carol had left of him, and as much as she didn't want to take that away from her, she knew she had to do what he would have wanted.

She got a job as a high school teacher – something that he would have loved to see her doing. Her Broadway dreams had died along with him – even before that. She woke up one morning in September and realized that it wasn't what she wanted anymore. She loved being a mom too much to spend the rest of her life being anything but someone's mother.

She had a car that she didn't typically drive – as odd as that was. The school was only a block away from her home, and she liked to indulge in a muffin from the coffee shop at the corner, and thought the block long walk was the perfect way to suppress the guilt.

She would drive to the daycare at 3:00 on the dot every day to pick up Olivia. She was always smiling, and showing her mom what she had painted that day. Sometimes, she would glance at the passenger seat as if to say "Honey, look what Livy painted!" but stopped herself before she even got to open her mouth.

Pain. That was what she felt everyday. A pain of hurt – a pain of sorrow.

His things were all locked away in storage, and a single picture of them the week before he died was the only thing in the house she kept of him. It wasn't a jab to him. It was just a way for the both of them to go on with their lived without having to stop and remember.

* * *

It was Tuesday, and after a day of grading exams and telling over zealous teenage boys that she was their teacher, and not a fellow classmate, Rachel decided to skip the muffin, and take the short way home. She rarely cut through the back alley – not out of fear, just out of total disgust.

She didn't like to be near anything dirty – even though she did work in a high school with tons of dirty and smelly teenagers. She ruffled up her nose as her heel clad feel clacked against the black and uneven pavement, and kept her eyes on the ground, muffling words she didn't even know every time her step faltered.

Just as she tried to pick her head up, the squealing sound of what she _knew _was a rat made her screech and stop dead in her tracks.

"What did you expect?" A low voice came from her right, and as she turned to look over to the person she so badly wanted to spit a well thought out fire ball back, her lips failed her.

The only thing she was aware of was the pain coming from her throat – the burning pain of a pulling strain. She couldn't expand her nostrils to breathe in air she so desperately needed. Her mouth was dry – the feeling like she had eaten sandpaper the only conscious thought in her mind.

"Finn" was the only thing she found herself saying through the clear air of Chicago.

His head was bowed, and his eyes were linked with hers – giving her a fierce and hard glare.

"I'm whoever you say I am, _darling_." He said, tilting his head to get a better view of her.

Her reflexes had failed her. So had just about everything at this moment.

She felt a hard, long breathe escape from her mouth along with a strangled cry.

A man was sitting on the rocky pavement next to a brown and ripped chair, a bottle of beer in his hand. He had a black hoodie covering his body, the hood up over s head of long chestnut colored hair. Locks swayed in the wind around his face – _his _face. His light brown eyes were still locked tightly on her.

A quiet breeze came over the both of them, and sent her brown hair swaying to the right side of her face, blocking her sight of him. She felt two wet tears fall heavily from her eyes directly onto the ground, never leaving a streak down her face.

The wind stopped, and he tilted his head up to look at her. She got a clear view of every part of his face . His nose, mouth, eyes, lips, brows – _everything_.

Hot tears rolled down her face, onto her neck, and into her black top that was so neatly tucked into her white dress pants.

He stood up then, towering tall over her as he made his way closer. He took in the tears clouding her vision, and the way her nose started to flush. His brows furrowed together in confusion as she continued to let the emotions take her over. Her lips were now parted, red and pouty as tears rolled over them.

He thought about reaching out to touch her, but decided that keeping them steady in his pockets was a far better idea – strongly because he was a stranger.

He watched as a small, tanned, manicured hand came up and landed next to his face, the heat from her palm permeating onto his cheek. He glanced at her hand so close to him, then right back to her eyes – searching. Did he know her? He didn't think so.

He willingly leaned his head into her hand as she brought the other hand up to follow the other. His face was now in both of her hands, as she bore her deep brown eyes into his. He squinted his just a bit, trying to understand her.

Unfortunately for him, he was no mind reader. He waited for her to simply tell him something – _anything_.

The pad of her thumb grazed his bottom lip, pressing hard until she reached the end. Who was this girl? He knew that she was lost – she had to be. In reality, and maybe just in life. Hell – so was he.

Simon had spend countless weeks in June trying to find a job. Something, anything to keep him on his feet, and off the ground of the shitty alleyway he had been living in for five years.

He rented a one bedroom apartment that had only one bathroom. He luckily had a working shower and microwave. His oven was shot – and he didn't have time to even try to get a new one.

He never had a girlfriend, and his parents were hell to be found ever since he moved out at eighteen. Now at the age of thirty, he didn't have much direction – _whatsoever. _

Before he could ask her her name, he took note of her face nearing closer to his, and before he could think, her lips were connected with his – a fervent, urgent, hard kiss. He quickly kissed her back, his lips parting to let her continue whatever she thought she wanted.

His hands moved up put of his pockets, and moved into her thick, long hair, grasping her scalp desperately as his head tilted against hers, his tongue making its way into her mouth.

He didn't know who this girl was or what she was doing, but he wasn't in any hurry to get her to leave.

He moved closer to the small woman, his hips touching up against her small torso. He walked towards her, her feet moving backwards into the brick wall nearest to them. Her back pricked with concrete particles, ripping holes into her blouse.

Her hands found their way to his neck, wrapping up around his head, pulling him closer to her – if that was possible.

He felt her gasp for air, and he allowed her to do so before turning her face back to him, and meeting his eyes with hers once again. He tilted her face back up to him with both of his hands and kissed her again. His lips moved with urgency, not sure to what – but just urgency. He felt himself moving his hips against her as she moved herself back with him. The both of them seeming totally in sync.

As his fingers grazed her face with his hold, he could feel the wet tears on his palms. Deciding to move his hands elsewhere, they found her hips as he lifted her to him, her legs wrapping around his hips – which were at least a foot higher than hers. Before he could stop her, she broke their "kiss" _if you could call it that, _and looked at him.

Her chest heaved with urgent breaths as she just gazed at him.

Not knowing what to say, he decided to release her from his hips, and let her fall back onto her feet. The click of her heels against the pavement brought him back to reality.

_What in the fuck just happened?_

"You look like my dead husband." She finally said, looking down at her feet.

He decided to nod, not even visible by her eyes, and turn away.

This girl was the most amazing, most confusing, most fucked up thing he had ever experienced.

Rachel wasn't confused. She wasn't upset. She didn't want to talk – or understand. She didn't care to look into who this man was, or what he did. The only thing on her mind was to get him to go back to the way he was just seconds ago.

She loved her husband. She loved Finn.

Whoever and whatever this guy in front of her was…he was her husband. Maybe in another world – in another life even. She didn't care to ask, or to know. The first time in her life – excluding being a child that she had shed tears had been today- in front of this stranger. She didn't believe in weird psychic crap – but she was smart enough to know that he was special.

"I didn't want to stop." She said, looking back up at him. He stood still, pulling something out of his pocket. He rested his hip, leaning to a rested posture, and turned back to her. He brought a cigarette to his mouth, and looked at her.

His lips curved into a smile, and he shook his head.

"Yes you did. You just didn't know it." He said, reaching for a light.

He heard the sound of her loud clicky heels coming closer to him, and he backed up into the wall he was against, hoping she would stop before she got to him. She didn't.

She stood in front of him, mere inches from him. He could feel her breathes against his neck as her head was tilted up towards him. He could feel her eyes boring into him as his remained above her head, rested at the spot they were just in.

He knew himself. He had been the only person in his life for the past twelve years – the only one getting to know his own personality. He liked women. He liked to have sex – and all of those things every fucking man on the earth likes. But fuck – he didn't know this girl from Adam.

As a bonus – she had just said he reminded her of her _dead_ husband.

"I have a four year old daughter." His brows furrowed at this, and looked down at her. Why the fuck his she telling a stranger this?

"So?" He said, looking back at her. He could feel himself growing inpatient with this girl. She was a little annoying at this point, and he wasn't sure why he was getting so grown of her. She was fucking beautiful – don't mistake that. She was everything he ever wanted in _anyone_. He didn't know what her name was, or the way she slept in a bed, what she drank at a bar – he just knew by looking at her that she could be everything.

She shook her head, and tilted her head to the right, resting her cheek on her shoulder. She looked to the ground and back to him. Her chest rising with a deep breath.

"I thought maybe you should know that I'm a mom."

He didn't understand her one bit. Did it really matter?

He decided to let the tense from his shoulders, and look back down at her – his eyes once again meeting hers. He looked back and forth between both eyes, before blinking once, and taking her face back into his hands.

Lowering his head and tilting hers up, he kissed her again – this time soft, almost lovingly. Their lips both stayed closed, but softening them to melt into each other. He lowered his hands to find hers, and took them into his hands as he broke away from her. He didn't say a word to her – just nodded to his right as he started walking away.

The sound of her heels once again on the ground sent a small smirk to his face as she followed him.

He knew this girl obviously had money – enough to be able to look the way she did. Typically, a person would be ashamed to bring someone of a higher class to such a dingy home – but at this moment he, nor she cared.

He didn't lock his doors – confident that no one would want anything he had to offer.

Walking inside, he looked behind him – surprised at how close behind him she was. She wasted no time in shutting his door behind her.

She closed the space between them for the last time, and reached out for his hand. Willingly letting her take it, he followed her as she brought his fingers up to the first button at the collar of her shirt.

Any normal person would have known that coming to someone's apartment really only means one thing – but he still took surprise at her movements.

He quickly moved her hand out of the way and started to unbutton each of the fastenings on her top until he got to the tucked in part, and yanked it out impatiently. Successfully unbuttoning her entire shirt, he peeled it off of her arms, and looked down at her.

The black lace bra her breasts were clad in was the only one of its kind he had seen in what felt like eternity. He couldn't remember the last time he had a women in his hands.

He wasted no time to tell her to do the same, and her hands shakily found his zipper and pulled his sweatshirt off, his bare chest underneath. He felt her fingers graze his tattoo on his heart. One he had gotten for his brother.

She didn't ask, and he didn't tell. They both had things to tell, but neither was asking at this point in time.

Her hands reached for his pants as his reached for her skirt. He simply pulled it down a bit, the rest coming without struggle. His pants were becoming increasingly tight with each bit of smooth, tanned skin he revealed.

"I'm Simon." He said quickly, his hand moving over hers to help in her mission to get his pants off.

"Rachel" She replied quickly, shoveling his jeans down his legs as he kicked them off.

_Rachel._

He expected nothing unique, and nothing traditional. That was exactly what he got. He still had no idea what in the hell he was doing at the moment, but he didn't think it was in his best interest to focus on it. He could deal with it later.

The only thing going through his mind was how insanely attractive this woman was. She was perfect – every part of her. He found himself thinking about how she had lost her husband. Not something every man would think of during a time such as this one.

He wished she didn't have to feel pain, even though knowing her for not even an hour had given him no time to develop that feeling.

He wished he could be her husband for her. As fucked up as that was – and as crazy as that was. He thought about his life for the past thirty years – and for the first time, he thought about what a _life _would be like. One with a house, a wife, a few babies.

_Jesus Christ_

"Simon-" The soft voice brought him back to reality as he once again looked at the woman in front of him.

He kissed her for what felt like the hundredth time today, and moved her back into the closest thing he could find stability of. The wall kept her upright, and he again lifted her easily onto him, feeling her heat against his hard member. The feeling was the best thing he had felt in easy years.

He looked up into her eyes, and parted his lips to let a soft moan escape him.

"Rachel" The strain in his voice told her he wanted this just as much as she did.

She had no livid clue of what she was doing. The only thing on her mind was him – here and now. Everything else in the world seemed small and un-important. She was focused on him. She felt a happiness in the past hour that she hadn't been able to feel in years. She felt like she was home again – back to being a sixteen year old virgin, putting her trust in Finn.

She knew better, though. She knew consciously he wasn't her husband. She didn't want him to be. The fact that she knew he was exactly his clone wasn't scary to her, and she didn't care what he or anyone else thought of it. She wanted this – here with him. Knowing him didn't effect that.

She didn't care about where he lived, or what he did. She just cared about him.

She let her muscles relax, and let her arms fall around him. Her hands found his hair, pulling at it in every direction she could. The sensations she was feeling rake through were ones she hadn't felt in so long. She yearned for them – she _needed _him.

A warm, fuzzy feeling calmed through her. She felt safe, protected – happy.

He moved his hips against hers, grinding himself into her, her neck tilting back. His lips attached to the skin there, licking and nipping, earning small noises from her letting him know she was still with him.

Her hands raked up his back, pulling at his boxers. He moved his lips to her ear, biting lightly on her lobe as he tounged the side.

"Are you sure?" He asked quietly, feeling her nod against him.

He broke his face from her, and let her push his boxers down with her feet, stepping out of them as they fell to the floor. He then let her fall back to the floor as he hooked his pointer fingers into her thong, pulling it down. He laid it on the bedside table, sure not to misplace it.

He looked to her for reassurance, and she gave it to him by pushing him back to his bed, letting him sit on the edge. She stood between his legs, her hands resting on his shoulders.

His palms caressed her shoulders and arms, kissing the skin exposed at the top of her bra that was still on her. He moved his fingers to the straps, pulling them off of her shoulders as he un-did the back clasp, pulling it away from her – the last thing between them.

They were both fully exposed to the other – raw and nude. Everything he was afraid of and everything she was afraid of.

His hands found her hips as he stood up over her, keeping his eyes on hers as he picked her up and placed her on the nearby table he had beside the bed. Things covering it were slid aside to the floor, a lamp broken and papers flown away.

He stood between her legs, his fingers grasping the skin of her thighs tightly as he pulled them apart and towards him. Her body slinked back against the wall, her knees wrapping around him. The tip of his cock was touching her entrance so slightly, and all he could do was stare at it – mesmerized by the idea of being connected to her.

He looked back up at her, her eyes giving him the okay as he leaned in towards her once again, linking his lips with hers. He wanted to pleasure her – in so many ways. He wanted to touch her, remember her – but in this moment, the only thing they had time for was to be connected to each other – for him to fuck the absolute shit out of her and hopefully get her mind off of everything that was bothering her.

He didn't want her to think of shitty things – he wanted her to be happy – to love, and to be loved.

He wanted to love her, protect her, cherish her, belong to her.

Taking her tongue in his mouth was the last bit he needed before sliding himself between her folds, into her body with a swift and slow movement. She let him in without force, and without strain.

Her mouth let out a moan into his mouth, his whole body slinking into relaxation as he stilled inside her. He wanted to remember this exact moment. This moment of being inside of the most beautiful, amazing woman he had laid eyes on. The beautiful stranger who had been so needed and so necessary in his life.

Her body relaxed into him as his arms held hers against him.

He pulled away and looked to her, her nod telling him everything he needed to know as he pulled away from her, sliding back into her slowly. They both let out sounds of content, as he started to move.

The movement of his hips back and forward was picking up as he held her face in his hands, lips on hers in quick movements. His lips moved against hers, tongues twisted and together. His hands found her hips as he lifted her closer to him, her head leaning against the wall as her back rested in one hand as the other rocked her hips to him, over and over again.

He slid in and out of her with vengeance, his loud grunts filling the room and overpowering her moans and whimpers, and words of "_yes" "please" and "more"_

He pumped into her continually, watching as he slipped in and out of her, his cock slick with her. He watched her folds let him in over and over, loving and adoring this moment. He never wanted to stop.

He wanted so badly to call her 'baby' and tell her he loved her – but what kind of fucking creep would he be to do that?

Out of all the women he had been with in his years, it had never been this.

She tries to move forward, and he increases the pressure of his hand on her hip holding her down while sliding in and out of her.

The way her stomach looks as it tenses each time he enters her is only one of the amazing sights he has been able to see today.

His head falls forward to her chest and he moans at the feeling of her warm tightness around his hard cock.

_God, she feels fantastic. _

He would fuck her every day is he could. If she let him. If she came right fucking back here everyday he would give her anything she asked for.

Her voice snaps him out of it. "Please, please …touch me, I need it..." Her voice is so angelic, anything she says sounds like something out of one of those audio book shits that he used to use when he lived with his parents. Even talking dirty to him sounded angelic coming from her.

He bends down to her level, grasping her by the shoulders and whispers harshly in her ear as he pumps into her.

"Later." He can hear himself grunting, loves the wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of her, the flesh of his hips slapping against her.

"God you are so tight." He takes her hand in his and brings it to her clit, making her rub herself as he pounds her harder.

He puts both of his hands back on her hips, pulling her back onto his cock with each thrust, pulling out almost all the way and then slamming into her as hard as he can.

The table is moving across the floor with each thrust.

He can't help but smile at that. His huge frame overpowering her, causing the table she's being _fucked _on to slam into the wall.

He grounds out, "You are the most beautiful fucking girl I have ever seen…_Jesus"_

Rachel felt like home to him. She felt familiar. He felt like he could tell her things he could be able to tell a mother. He felt like he could laugh with her like he could laugh with a sister. He felt like he could kiss her and hug her like he could kiss and hug a wife.

He closes his eyes for just a second, and remembers how it felt to be _loved. _To feel needed, and to feel important. To be able to have someone who needed him…someone who wanted him. All his life, he felt like a shadow of a person that he was supposed to be. Like a boy was born with hopes and dreams, and he was only his outer shell.

He sometimes felt like a disappointment – not only to himself, but to everyone. He felt like everywhere he went, everyone knew him and his story, and that every person he came in contact with was disappointed in him. Strangers seemed like villains to him, and he couldn't handle that rejection.

He can feel himself nearing closer as his brings himself back to the present, and the girl in front of him, and he curses himself for not keeping up with normal manly duties so when this amazing woman asks for him to fuck her he can last for more than five minutes.

He leans down to her ear, and whispers that he's close to her, seeking out for her to tell him what to do.

He doesn't expect her to tell him that she is as well…and he smiles at her – the first time in the past hour. She smiles back, the two of them connecting for a real second.

He picks her up, and puts her on the bed, as he pulls her leg up over his shoulder, a totally new angle for the both of them. He slams into her deeper than he had before, her moans growing louder with each pump. He grunts at the new depth for him, and before he knows it, she's digging her nails into his shoulders as she screams out words he isn't sure of.

Before he can ask her, he feels himself coming inside of her, spilling his seed into her body, hot and fast. He quickly remembers he hadn't asked her what she wanted him to do, but her hands on him pulling him closer to her tells him she's okay with it.

He lets out a hearty groan as he spills the last of himself inside of her, looking down at her looking up at him.

Her hands find his face, bringing him down to her and colliding his lips with hers. She kisses him with a a passion he didn't feel before. Her lips move against his slowly and sensually, her hips still jerking up to his, his cock still buried deep inside of her.

His shaggy long hair is slick and damp with sweat as he brushes it back to look at her. She breaks away, and looks into his eyes lovingly, and he instantly recognizes. Her eyes cloud with tears, and two short streams fall out the sides of both eyes as she smiles up at him.

"Thank you." Is the only thing she says before giving him a chaste kiss. He falls on top of her, her arms welcoming him as they wrap around his shoulders, rubbing them calmly and hard, knots he has had for years finally being removed.

He knows that he should be thanking her…not the other way around. She was like this gift sent to him from fucking angels or something.

She's like this miracle…this wish he had granted – that he didn't even actually wish for. He considers himself to be the luckiest guy in the world, and nothing can ever get better or compare to this.

"I don't want you to leave me, Simon…I want you…all the time…a lot…everyday." She finally finishes her sentence, and he picks up off of her, and rolls next to her, pulling her into him. Her arm leans lazily against his chest as he holds her head to the crook of his shoulder.

"Anything you want – I want." He says back to her, kissing her forehead. He isn't stupid. He knows she'll leave, and maybe possibly never come back. Why would she? He had absolutely nothing to offer her.

* * *

A knock on his door lets him know that she had come back.

You might wonder why or how he knew it was her – but because he didn't get visitors – _ever_, he knew.

His eyes adverted from the newspaper he was reading to the door that was unlocked – perfectly available to her if she really wanted to get in. He didn't care though – he was too miserable and beat down to give two shits if she came in or not.

He hadn't showered in two days, and his hair was the first telltale sign of that. He didn't care about that either. He wore an old wife-beater that had been torn up and stained. He didn't care if he smelled, or if she was disgusted with him.

The night she went home, he thought about it – over and over – reliving every second of the first time they met. The entire two hours they spent together was memorized by him. He knew every face she made during that time – everything and every detail he remembered.

In doing this, he over-thunk things, and wound up scaring her off.

She came back to his place the next day, and he was slugging down a beer – his eighth one that day, and he told her some things that he didn't really think through. Things like _"your husband's dead", and "go home to your daughter, Rachel"… _and then he told her that she was a _dirty, cheating whore _and that she should just go.

His eyes immediately left her after those last words fell from his lips, and he reverted from saying anything further, and he just listened to her turn on her heel and slam the door shut behind her.

That was nearly six months ago.

He said a quiet "come in", and didn't look up until he heard the click of the knob letting him know she was fully inside.

He placed the paper down next to him, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Look at me, Simon." Her voice was calm and soft, pretty.

As much as he wanted to disobey her wishes, and let her storm off like she did before, angry and hurt – he couldn't. Not today. He fucking missed her. It had been six months since the last time he saw her – heard her voice.

His eyes connected to her shoes – a pair of brown flats that looked new, and skimmed upwards – over her slim and tanned legs – up to the brim of a denim dress, and finally up to her belt, and over it.

He took notice of the large swell of her stomach as it protruded from her body, a small hand over it as if to protect it.

He shut his eyes immediately, and took a deep breath as he let emotion take him over. He bowed his head down into his hand, and shook his head from side to side as he couldn't help but let his nose wrinkle up and his lips part, his eyes releasing tears as they streamed fast down his face into his waiting hands.

He didn't even care if she left. He wished she would – wished she would fucking leave and never come back. Wished she would move away – take her daughter and leave. He wished she never let him have her – never let him know her.

"It's time to move on." The words came from again, and he could hear the tears in her voice, but he couldn't have cared less as he tried to calm himself. His body shook with sobs as he tried to think about why.

Why he had fucked up his life so bad. Why he hadn't refrained from letting himself get too close to her. Why he couldn't keep himself from fucking up someone as beautiful as her. Why he couldn't just fucking be normal.

Without hearing her, he felt her hands on his arms as he stood against the wall, her small frame almost a couple of feet below him.

His hands still remained on his face, his eyes covered – too ashamed to let her see. How could this have happened. Fuck him to hell for doing this to her. For cursing her with something so fucking useless and painful.

He felt two warm hands on his, and he let her pull them away from his face, his eyes boring directly into hers. Her eyes were stained red – the same brown shade he remembered, and a small smile formed on his face as he saw hers. She was fucking smiling. How in the fuck could she be _smiling?_ Doesn't she see that he had ruined her life? That he had taken something away from her? That he had taken advantage of her that day? That he wasn't worth a damn thing?

Her chest heaved as she began to cry, tears rolling down her face as she held his face in her hands. He looked down at her, his hands finding their way over hers as she leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips, the warmth and sweetness seeming all too familiar and _perfect _to him.

He quickly broke away and shook his head at her, his brows furrowing together as he clenched his eyes tightly shut.

"You have to leave, Rachel. You've got to leave and never fucking come back here. Don't ever come back here." He said, shaking his head at her – his words harsh and loud.

He had hoped she would falter, scared – but she didn't. She remained in the same position as she was in, her eyes still locked on his.

"I'm not leaving. I'm going to stay right here, Simon. I'm never ever going to leave." She told him, squeezing his hands tightly with hers as she pressed herself against him, her arms wrapping around his waist, her head buried in his chest.

He had no idea what to think, and he didn't even have a chance to, because he found himself with his hands wrapped in her hair, holding her hard against him – his own head resting on hers. His chin rested firmly on the top of her head as he moved his fingers gently against her scalp.

He felt the bulge of her against him, and he cringed at the feeling. Before he had the chance to try and get away, he felt it.

This small flick against him. Right _there_. It came again and again, hard and quick. It felt as if someone was poking him – trying to get his attention. His eyes closed, and he opened his mouth to tell her, but her actions beat him to it.

She jerked away from him, and held the lump with her hand, rubbing circles on it – almost lovingly.

Why hadn't she gotten it taken care of? Why would she keep something that was a part of him? Such a disappointment.

She sat down on the bed, both hands now wrapped around herself, her eyes on it. He looked at her, wondering what he was supposed to do. Was she okay? Was something happening?

Her eyes wandered back up to him, and he was looking intently at her, and he was relieved when she shot him a small smile. _Thank fuck, _he thought.

The last thing he needed was for her to lose it or something – something to make her hate him more than she should already.

"It's a girl." She said, looking at him with the same small smile.

He didn't say anything, and the smile fell from his face, his eyes now on the floor. He nodded lightly, and walked around her. He started to walk to the door when he stopped and turned back around.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Rachel? I mean – seriously? Why did you come back here? To try and get me to feel for you? To try and make me feel sorry for you because of the fucking thing that you could have easily had dealt with? Jesus Christ – I don't even _know _you! You already have a kid – why in the hell do you need another one? Just go – just fucking go _home _Rachel, and don't fucking come back! Okay – just don't ever _fucking_ come back here!" The volume of his voice was growing increasingly loud, and he couldn't tell if it was from anger, or from anxiety.

He didn't want her to go, but hell – she really needed to.

She stood up, and he could feel her glare on him, and before he could realize, she was heaving on his floor, vomit pouring from her mouth – all over. She was clutching _it _as she continued to vomit. He watched her with wide eyes, not thinking before practically running over to her and helping her to the floor. He rested her knees on the wood, and held her to him, letting her continue.

He rubbed her back, and held back a strand of hair – it all happening so quickly that the reaction time had been quickly thought.

Eventually stopping, she began dry heaving as he heard the sobs mixed in. Soon enough, it was just loud cries of anger, of pain. She began to scream out, letting tears rake through her body.

He held her arms, tightly enough to keep her upright as she kept the emotion flowing. He watched her as she cried, tears falling from his own eyes. He couldn't stand to see her hurting – crying.

Soon enough, she was lying against his chest on the floor, a towel over her mess as her legs were sprawled under her.

His back was against the wall as he let her lean on him, her hand wrapped around his torso.

He hoped maybe she was asleep – finally taking enough. That was too easy though – and he knew it. He knew she couldn't just knock out and not deal with this. He didn't know her at all actually – but everything about her was pretty much already up in his brain as if he had known her forever.

An hour later she was sitting on his bed, leaning over the edge as he stood in doorway of his bathroom, thinking of what to do next. They hadn't exchanged a word since he said what he did, and he really couldn't blame her.

As badly as he felt – he meant every word he said.

He felt a warmth beside him, and his head moved to his right to find her there, arms crossed over her, her hair pulled into a loose bun in the back of her head. Her eyes were puffy and wide, still beautiful. Her lips were red and plump – probably from biting them.

She didn't meet his eyes, and for the first time since he met her – he wished that she would. It seemed as if she always did things that he wished she wouldn't – things that made him forget about all thought and lose all rationale.

Her eyes laid somewhere down near his feet, and he moved his body to look at her.

"I kept this baby because that's what he would have wanted. I already have a child – I've already brought a baby into this world. Do you know what that means? That means that now – any person that I carry inside of me is mine. It is my child – my baby that I made. That means that no matter what the situation is, and no matter how fucked up his or her father may be, that it is going to be born, and it is going to be brought into the world because it fucking deserves to be!" Her eyes now moved up to his, and he saw the pain behind her eyes as she seethed at him.

He had never seen her angry before – no where near close.

He opened his mouth to say something when he felt a hand move against his face, colliding hard with a loud slap. She stared him in his eyes as he stood still, not moving to tend to the sting she just gave him.

_What in the fuck_

He didn't try to say a thing, he just brushed past her, his shoulder brushing hers with a force that sent her twirling in his direction. She grabbed onto his forearm, and he spun back around, pushing her against the closest wall.

Her back collided with a thud, and her arms were held to her sides by his.

"Don't ever fucking speak t-" Before he could finish his sentence she was screaming in his face, loud and incomprehensible words flying harshly out of her mouth. He watched her as she threw a fit, trying hard against his arms to let her go – all she was met with was failure.

She continued to yell in his face, eyes red and angry, her neck straining with red.

He knew he had struck a nerve, and every word she said to him went through him like a knife.

She already had a kid. One that she and her fucking dead husband had together. It wasn't his for god's sake – not his problem.

He watched her tire from her fit, and then again he was faced with the tears that rolled down her face. He looked to her as tears stung his eyes, and his face contorted into one of pain, and sympathy.

"I'm sorry – I'm so fucking sorry I'm sorry baby, I'm sorry." He said, tears falling freely down his face as he took hers into his hands, pulling her to him harshly, her body colliding with his as her body shook as she cried.

He held her like that for what felt like forever until she began pushing at his chest with her hands.

"I hate you. I hate you so much – I never should have come here." She said, pushing him away from her as she began to walk away. He grabbed onto her hand and pulled her back to him, his lips brushing hers before driving is tongue into her mouth. Before he could think, she was once again against a wall – his mouth covering hers, attacking her with passion.

His hands went up to fund her face, his thumb on either sides of her ear, his fingers around her neck. He tilted her head up to him to meet his height, and her hands eventually found his chest, going underneath the thin fabric of what you could call a shirt, to palm his abdominals roughly.

He moved one hand to her leg, and hitched it up over her hip. He pressed himself hard against her, moving her body up slightly so she could feel him on her. He focused not on the bulge against his torso, but on the heat that was coming from her. Her eyes lazily opened as his lips left hers, her arms going for his neck.

Soon, her legs were both tightly wrapped around him as he drove himself dryly into her, sweat covering both of them as they fucked against that same fucking wall.

He drove into her mercilessly, his head crooked in the hollow of her neck. His lips wetly pressed against the skin there. Her head was tilted back in pleasure, her nails digging into his scalp as she fisted his dirty hair in her fingers.

"Fuck, baby – your so fucking…tight- fuckkkkk – " Groaning out, he moved his hips quicker, earning higher pitched sounds from her as she told him to go faster. He drove his cock into her over and over, ramming her into the sheetrock harder, her body rocking with his.

His hips were moving at a frantic pace, and he was spilling inside of her before he could even let her know.

"Shit – I'm coming…fuck – cum for me…fucking cum for me baby." He said harshly, grunting low as he continued to rock against her, the last of him emptying inside her.

As her voice got to the ultimate high, he knew she was pushed to the edge, and she was screaming his name. She gripped him tight, and let out quick and ragged breaths as she screamed _yes _again and again.

He let her fall to the ground, her legs shaky against him as he did so. He held her hips, knowing that if she god forbid lost her balance, he would never hear the end of it.

She stood there, naked and exposed, looking up at him.

He was breathing heavily, a hand coming up to brush the hair from his face.

"I have to go." She said softly, and picked up her things, moving past him and into his bathroom.

She shut the door, and it was too late for him to have thought of something to say. He went to retrieve his clothes, and slipped them back on without effort. He sat on the bed, the edge closest to the bathroom, and waited for her.

When the door opened, he looked up to see her leaning in the doorway, her legs crossed over the other, a hand on her bump. He watched as she rubbed circles on it, it almost soothing to him.

"We're having a baby, Simon. You and I. And whether or not you want to face that – she's going to come. One day soon, she's going to be here – crying, breathing, and _here_. It's all easy now. We can't see her, and we can't touch her – she's protected already. We don't have to care for her yet – she doesn't need us yet." He could see that she was planned in this, her words carefully thought out.

"It's hard – don't get me wrong. It's so fucking hard being a mom. But I love it – so much. Having a baby is the most amazing thing in life. Being able to look at someone so small and pure – so untouched, and perfect, and know that they're _yours. _That even though all the shitty things you might have done in your life, that it doesn't make you any more different because in the end, your still able to make a perfect little human being that hasn't done any wrongs – nothing to be ashamed of. Your capable of giving someone life."

He listened to every word she said – all of them talented and true. His eyes were still rested on the small of her bump, and he thought about it. Thought about the fact that even though all of the things he had done in his life were things not to be proud of, he had created someone with this woman – someone who had no track record – no enemies – no crimes committed. Someone so innocent.

For the first time, he looked at her.

"You're going to be a dad. Simon – we're having this baby. You and I. Together." She leaned her arm down, and walked to him, stopping between his legs. He looked up into her eyes, and thanked god for the soft and warm smile she gave him.

She took his hand in hers, and he watched as she brought it to her bump. He watched as she opened his palm with her own fingers, and placed it flat on the top of her stomach. She let go of his hand, and he was suddenly afraid that it was going to fall, but he kept his hand placed there.

He watched his hand intently, and decided to move it around in a circle. He brushed his fingers over her, tracing patterns around her belly button. Just as he was about to resume his movements, he felt it. That feeling he felt against him before. He watched as she lifted her dress up, and she looked down with him as he stared at her bare skin.

He watched as it moved, seeing how her skin contorted with the movements, moving almost like jelly. Then he saw it – the craziest fucking thing he had ever seen in his thirty years on earth.

He made out the shape of a foot – five toes – a perfectly shaped foot against her skin, pressing against it to the outside world. It didn't stop there, and he reached his fingers out to trace the skin. He moved his fingers along the shape, and jerked his hand back when it jerked itself back. He furrowed his brows when it stopped, and he looked back up at her.

"It's a girl?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

She smiled to him, and took his face in both of her hands.

"She's a girl." She agreed, nodding to him.

* * *

He grabbed her hand tightly, and sat back down next to her.

His face moved closer to her, and she turned her head to look at him. For the first time, he could see the emotion in her eyes – the pain, the fear, the hurt.

"Please, Rachel." He pleaded, his hand clenching hers.

She shook her head, biting her lip as tears rolled down her face.

"I can't anymore. I really can't." That hurt so fucking bad. It was the worst fucking pain to have to watch someone you love so much go through such pain, and not be able to do a fucking thing about it.

"Rachel, I need you to push for me sweetheart – the baby needs to come out." He looked down to the end of the bed where her doctor sat, and as much as he knew he shouldn't – he felt an odd anguish toward her. Like he wanted to scream at her to shut the fuck up. Like she was such a fucking moron, and to let her take a second to breathe.

"Please push baby." He was begging now, his other hand caressing her cheek, his eyes pleading.

He kept his eyes locked on hers as she shut her lids and pressed her face together in a push, her lips parting to let out a grunt. Her eyes opened back to his, and she squeezed his hand and moved her head back to her doctor.

She pushed for another fifteen minutes, moans, groans and small whimpers coming from her. He was dying – he was so fucking sure of it. Dying on the inside because this was so fucking awful.

Rachel grabbed his hand tighter, and he grasped her knee tightly as he stood back up next to her.

"Push, Rachel!" The doctor said, standing up slightly and he noticed that she seemed to be pulling something – down there.

_What the fu-_

Before he could even finish his thought, his knuckles were rolling as she squeezed harder than she ever had, and she screamed out in what sounded like an excruciating pain.

"And that's the shoulders!" He heard distantly, his mind too focused on her and what he just watched. He leaned his head down to hers, and rested his forehead on hers.

For the next five minutes, she pushed again and again, until finally she groaned in a successful tone, and he knew. She was finally here.

"It's a girl!" he heard, and he looked over her knees, and saw the squirming, pink, wrinkly thing in the doctors arms, covered in white and red. His lips curved up into a smile, and he watched as they lowered her down onto Rachel's bare chest, and before he even got to look at her, they were telling him to "cut the cord", so he took what he guessed were scissors and just followed gloved fingers.

He couldn't even hear anything besides the loud screaming of the baby, and he just thanked himself that he did it right. He was about to look at her face – see her, and then she was gone.

He looked back down to Rachel, eyes fearful and confused, and she gave him a reassuring smile, gripping his hand.

"Make sure she's okay." She told him quietly, and he nodded dumbfoundedly like a young boy on his first day of kindergarten. He nearly tripped over the chair as he slowly moved to where loud and wailing cries were coming from.

In between the blue scrubs he could make out flailing limbs, and a white blanket. He got a clear view as a nurse tended back to Rachel, giving him a warm smile as she brushed by.

He stood feet away from the clear bin, watching as she cried and whimpered. Her skin was clean now, and she was being wrapped up in a pink blanket that he guessed was one, and a pink hat was placed on her head. They made her look like some type of burrito – like a fucking type of food.

_That's a baby. That's my baby. She's my baby. _He thought.

He was brought back by a woman in front of him, asking him to take the baby.

He nodded dumbly, and followed her closer to the bin, and he finally got to see her. Got to see her face – her eyes, her lips, her nose…everything.

He felt the sting of tears burning his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he let them come with welcome. He followed the woman's instructions, and placed his hands underneath the blanket, his palms flat against the back, lifting her up.

He pulled her close to him, a little low for the woman's liking and she nudged his arms up, pushing her to his chest. He looked back to Rachel, and even though she was occupied with _other _things, she watched him just as he watched her.

He heard the baby begin to cry, and he looked back down to her. He watched her lips furrow back, low whimpers escaping her lips. He moved his finger to touch them, her sounds quieting. He traced her small lips with his large finger, not believing that this could be real.

He walked back to Rachel after everything was settled, and he began to place the baby into her arms when she stopped him.

"This isn't my first rodeo…you keep her." She told him, smiling back at him. He didn't even realize the smile on his face. He couldn't have cared less if he looked like a giddy child. Hell – he _was _a giddy child. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this. The last time he felt this much love, and warmth, and passion. He felt so consumed by this tiny human being, more so than her mother even.

This little girl was Rachel, and she was him. How fucking insane that is. How incredible that is to be able to create a person with another person.

Holding her for an hour gave him the chance to get to know her – to see what she was like – to see what made her cry, and what made her settle. He passed her on to Rachel when he realized she was probably hungry.

"I think I'm in love with you." She said softly, looking over to him as he watched her closely with their daughter.

"I _know_ I am in love with you, Rach." He told her, kissing her with the love he had been dying to show her for his entire life.

This was what life is – what life is supposed to be. He thanks god – he thanks angels – he thanks her – and he thanks her husband – wherever he may be, for giving her to him. For letting him love her, and letting her love him.

He looks back over to Rachel and the baby, and closes his eyes, hoping that when he re-opens them, they're still there.

_I hope to god this is real – that she is real._

* * *

She was very, very real.

Eva Berry Weeks was a very real, very loud, very fussy little girl. She kept both of her parents up for hours, and she annoyed the living hell out of her sister.

Olivia would run into her mothers' room, and beg her to send the baby back. He found it quite amusing, and tried to never let her see him laugh. It was weird – having her daughter embrace him as well as she did.

Though she had never been old enough to truly know her father, she knew of him, and she knew that he would always be with her.

It was a month after they brought the baby home that Olivia had called him _daddy_. It knocked the wind out of him, and for a miniscule second, he considered running for the hills. But when she reached her tiny hand out for his, he knew that this was the best it would ever – _ever _get.

His life was finally perfect – finally complete.

He had full intention of marrying her – eventually. For now, he loved the three of them, and learned that being a dad, and being someone's partner was the best fucking thing in the world, and that he wouldn't trade it for a single thing.

He had his apartment torn down by REPO, and when Rachel asked him to move in, he was expecting to be cramped in a small two bedroom apartment with a little girl who hated him, and a woman who he loved silly, but who wasn't sure that she loved him the same.

He wasn't expecting the house she took him to – the winding house with lawn for miles, and the 5 bedrooms that waited for him.

Hell, he could have lived in his place with them and been the happiest man alive – but this…this was pretty great.

Olivia had started school just last week, and Rachel was deciding she wanted to be a stay at home mom, and give her position to him. He was grateful, and fucking scared at the same time. He wanted to provide for his family – and that was exactly what he was going to do.

They curled up into bed after a long day, the baby finally asleep, and Olivia content with a 'Frozen' DVD. He held her body against him as she stared up at the ceiling. She traced patterns on his arm, and finally looked to him.

Her eyes swelled with fresh tears, and he shot up to look at her in confusion.

"Baby what's the-" Mid sentence, she kissed him – hard. Kissing her back, he held her face in his hand before gently pulling her from him.

"Baby-" He started.

She smiled to him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I _know _I love you, Simon. I am so in love with you." She said, joy clouding her eyes as she held him tight against her.

He kissed her hard, and made love to her. He was loved. By the woman he dreamed about for so many years. She was this beautiful stranger, who stumbled upon him out of random, not meant to happen. They made a baby, and fell in love. She gave him life – life that maybe he didn't deserve, think he wanted – needed – but he was sure as _hell_ happy to have.

* * *

So? What do you think? I'm much happier with this version! This idea came to me after watching a movie, and since I love the Finn/Simon crossover, i thought I would bring you another one with a little different story line. I think it's a bit choppy so i apologize, and i wish I had the energy to write more. I'm sure there are a ton of mistakes because i did NOT proof-read this one, i just want to get it up. Again, I wrote this in 2 hours so it may be total crap, but i hope you enjoyed it a little bit! Thanks, and review! Let me know if you would like a sequel!

-Stephanie


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